Chapter 3

"Haven’t you seen a Scythe before?" Oldfried snapped across the other side of the tavern to the cowering customers, but again was met by a wall of silence. "Stupid heathens" he muttered under his breath as he took another swig from his mug "God damn ale is terrible too and where the bloody hell are those two?" he thought to himself as he sat there in his damp clothes, his hooded robe slowly drying by the fireside.

Thirty-eight minutes later and four more Ales, Oktar stepped through the tavern door, accompanied by something else.  "Holy hell Oktar, you took your time" Oldfried boomed, "And what is that thing?" he continued as he looked at Druid from toe to head. "Its the Druid" Oktar sighed in reply, "What they bloody do? shove him in the ground and feed him some weird Druid fertilizer?" Oldfried laughed out. But Oktar just stared tiredly at the Priest, then noticed the Scythe leaning against the wall next to the fireplace and a cloak on the floor, but thought better not to ask, instead motioning the druid to sit down as he sat in the opposite chair to the Priest, both looking at him

"Well, were here, so whats our next move?" Oktar asked.

Oldfried gulped down the last of his drink, looked from the Arch-mage to the Druid.

"Well?" Oktar asked again, with a slightly impatience in his voice.

"Whats your name boy?" Oldfried asked the Druid completely blanking Oktar, "Jeremy" the Druid replied, "Jeremy eh? you enjoy picking flowers and dancing naked or whatever you weirdos do in the forest?" Oldfried continued with a grin on his face, then turned back to Oktar, who was at this point slightly red in the face for being ignored completely. "Well then, as I explained before, the natural order of balance is being messed around with,
and it bloody aint being caused by the white wonder upstairs... I suspect that old battle axe of a witch might be involved" Oldfried explained, "Which witch?" Oktar asked with a puzzling look.

"You know... HER" Oldfried replied.

Copyright © 2005 Keith Hammond